


The Seconds Become Minutes Become Hours

by LemonTwister



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Danny is such a mess, Egobang - Freeform, Frottage, Infidelity, M/M, mentions of Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2796743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonTwister/pseuds/LemonTwister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny wants Arin to want him, but he doesn't want to hurt Suzy and fuck up her marriage. Because that is the only dead end for this long, winding road of lies and regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seconds Become Minutes Become Hours

Danny never wants this to change. He wants to hold onto this for as long as he can, for as long as his grip withstands and his fingers don't let go. He's fucking 34 years old and he plays video games for a living with the funniest guy he's ever met. When Arin and Barry approached him about taking over the role of Not-So-Grump, Danny honestly never imagined that he would be entertaining enough to replace Jon, and that he would kindly be told that the fans just didn't want him. And he would step down, be happy with just having the opportunity to co-host his favorite Web show, and have no bitter (honestly, maybe) feelings about the fall through.

But it's been over a year and he's still sharing that couch with Arin, still Not-So-Grump, and sometimes it's exhausting in ways he never would have foreseen. But he's never been in a happier place in his adult life and he feels like the luckiest goddamn man in the world for being able to make people laugh, make them forget about the stressful shit in their lives if even for a few minutes, and actually make a living out of it.

And he enjoys it so, so much. He falls asleep after an entire day of Grumping with his sides sore from laughter. No one can make him just absolutely lose his shit like Arin can, and it took a little time but they found their rhythm, and not every fan will ever prefer him over Jon, but he feels loved. By the fans and his friends, and there isn't another person he would rather do this with than Arin. Ross and Barry are good friends to him now, and Steam Train is a chance for him to mess with Ross, but no one just gets him like Arin.  
It is warm and comfortable sitting on that couch with Arin. After grinding out lyrics for Ninja Sex Party, thinking of new ideas for Starbomb, and juggling a hundred different things during the week, the weekends spent with his leg brushing against Arin's on that cramped little couch and trying to catch his breath after some stupid, ridiculous comment is made—

He wouldn't trade them for anything.

And Starbomb. He couldn't have foreseen that one happening; he couldn't have predicted that Arin would team up with Ninja Sex Party. And it worked and it sold, but Danny knew it would even when Arin was nervous. Because Arin doesn't ever admit it but he's never certain that anyone will even like his work. He never knows just how much talent he posesses, especially when it comes to music. During the AMA about Starbomb, Danny sat there and tried not to grin like an idiot, tried not to flush when Arin called him amazing when it came to producing harmonies. That little comment, something Arin most likely gave little thought to before he said it, played over and over again in the back of Danny's mind throughout the rest of the day. Inwardly, he was embarrassed to feel so giddy about it, as if his favorite musician had zeroed him out in the crowd and asked him to come up on the stage to sing.

In a way, though, Arin is one of his favorite musicians. He isn't the greatest at singing, usually off-key and unconcerned with the harmony, but he has a good rhythm and a smoothness to his words and Danny could just listen to him speak about nothing for a while, just listen to his voice—

And when Danny realizes that his nice feelings of friendship for Arin have changed to not so nice (in fact, extremely problematic) feelings of a different sort of love (the kind in which he wants to spend all of his free time with Arin, the kind in which he inspires Arin and Arin inspires him, the kind in which he wants to wake up in Arin's bed, hickies on his neck and on his thighs and feeling exhausted in the best kind of way)— he panicks. The anxiety is stifling and comes rushing at the worst time, sitting beside Arin on that small little couch, playing some awful video game. Danny kind of just freezes as the realization finally blossoms inside his mind, though the seed had been there long before and he had just refused to water it.

Arin is still figuratively pissing on the game, laughing incredulously at the lack of physics, and Danny is right beside him but he feels disconnected from his body.  
Arin immediately notices when he doesn't laugh at some ridiculous insult he gave to the screen, and in his peripheral vision Danny sees him turn his head to look at him.  
"Hey, dude?" He says, and Danny snaps out of it, blinks rapidly and tries to put a neutral look on his face. "Everything okay, man?" Arin chuckles because they're still recording, but when Danny meets his eyes they're concerned, one eyebrow cocked.

Danny could pretend. Suppress all of this complicated shit, never say a word of it to anyone. He can't ruin this, he can't ruin this.

"I just totally fuckin' spaced out man, sorry," he laughs, hopefully passing for guilty, and Arin smirks at him, turns back to the screen and tells him that no matter how shitty this game is, they both have to suffer through it. Danny shakes his head, looks to the sloppy graphics on the monitor and scoots a little farther to the armrest, enough so that his leg isn't touching Arin's. "Yeah, you just love to make me suffer, Arin."

***

You fucking piece of shit, Danny thinks to himself, his chest heaving as he stares up at the cieling, streaks of cum drying on his stomach as he lies in a cooling pool of sweat. He was supposed to be suppressing non-platonic thoughts about Arin, but here he is, spent and his nerves still buzzing after jerking off to a fantasy very much involving said Grump and a video camera.

He groans and gets out of bed, making a face when the wet sheets try to cling to his skin. This can't happen again, he tells himself. He takes a hot shower and leans his head back under the spray, the water cascading down his nose and lips, scorching, scorching. When he's done and running a towel through his unruly hair, his head feels like lead. As if the water had soaked into his pores and dripped into his skull.

He sleeps on the other side of the bed, mindful of the sweat stains. He groans pathetically into his pillow, a dizzying fatigue pressing down on his bones. His body was punishing him, Danny thought, drifting and waking, constantly on the edge between consciousness and sleep.

***

"Oh, Danny! You look terrible!" Danny nods his head with a wry smile, Suzy's shrill voice unusually muffled. "You look sick, why didn't you stay home today?" Arin walks up behind Suzy to get a look at him in the doorway. Danny waves his hand and tries to laugh. A cough comes out instead. He covers his mouth and mumbles,

"No way, Scuze, missing work over a tiny little cold? Nuh uh." His voice lacks the usual energy but he hopes that it will be unnoticeable on the recordings.

"Are you kidding, man?" Arin says as Suzy moves out of the doorway so that Danny can step inside. "If you're sick there's no way you're gonna wanna be cracking jokes for 8 hours or staring at a screen non-stop."

"He didn't listen to me, probably won't listen to you," Barry interrupts, right behind Danny as he follows him through the door. Danny throws him a guilty smile. Barry had tried to convince him to just stay in bed, that Ross could be Not-So-Grump for the day, but that didn't sit well with Danny, not at all— made him feel nauseous, and isn't that funny, cause that hadn't been one of his symptoms last night. He didn't want to give up that time spent with Arin, even though he knows that it's really in his best interest to get away from him, move across the fucking country just like Jon. Out of sight, out of mind.

Dayquil and cough drops keep his head above the water. Arin tells him to rest on the couch for a few hours before they try to play some games. Suzy brings him plenty of blankets, but they still don't feel like enough when he's snuggles under them all. His skin is burning but his bones aren't melting— they feel like ice. He's sweating and sniffling but he still wants to ask Arin to join him on the couch. He'll make room for him if he says yes.

Of course, Danny keeps his mouth shut. Though feverish, he holds onto his sensibility.

"Jesus Christ dude," Arin exclaims, suddenly there in front of him as if he knew Danny was just wishing for him, holding the back of his hand to Danny's forehead. "You're burning up. We might need to take you to the ER." Danny smiles up at him blearily. He opens his mouth to thank his friend for the concern but instead falls into a coughing fit.

"Hold on, I'll grab a thermometer," Suzy says from the bedroom. Moments later, she is asking Danny to open his mouth and lift his tongue. The cold instrument feels foreign and uncomfortable, but Arin is standing there watching him with his arms crossed and Danny is a bit sad when the thermometer beeps and Suzy pulls it from his mouth cuz then Arin looks away from him. Suzy looks at the tiny screen and says,

"100 point 2. Definitely a fever, but no need for the hospital yet. We'll keep an eye on it."

"Dan, we are definitely not Grumping today," Arin states, his tone leaving no room for argument. Danny groans, but Arin continues with, "No way. You're sick, man. You've got a fever and a bad cough, and I know you feel like shit right now. We'll try and record a few episodes tomorrow, but today you just stay here and hope that none of us get sick because of you." He smiles as he says the last part, half-way joking, "Cause if you do, you're getting your tiny little ass kicked."

Danny nods obediently, knowing that his debate skills are severely weakened when he feels like the gross bacteria on the bottom of someone's shoe. Suzy, being the motherly sweetheart that she is, makes him herbal tea with honey. It's soothing as it flows down his irritated throat, and all at once he wants to cry because he's in love with Arin who's in love with Suzy who is one of the sweetest and most beautiful women he's ever met. 

***

Danny sleeps. The world continues to move around him, and he catches snippets of life as he sways back and forth between wakefulness and slumber. Arin and Barry's conversation about editing, Suzy's humming as she makes chicken noodle soup, Ross accidentally slamming the door when he stops by.

Arin shakes him awake sometime in the evening. The sky is orange and red when Danny peers out of a window, and when he sits up he knows that his fever has broken. Arin sits a bowl of soup on the coffee table.

"Here, I just warmed it back up for you. Suzy made it earlier but I figured you wanted to rest a little more. Feel any better?"

Danny pushes away some of the blankets and clears his throat, mentally surveying his body. His throat is sore and his body still feels drained. But his fever is gone and his head feels lighter, less clogged.

"Much," he says and his voice is hoarse. He reaches for the soup and sits it in his lap, shoves the blankets to the floor and pats the space beside him, offering Arin a seat.

"Seriously, why didn't you just stay in bed today?" He asks as he sits, reaching for the remote on the table. Hell's Kitchen pops up on the screen, volume irritatingly loud as Gordon Ramsey degrades some poor fool. Danny takes the remote and hits the "mute" button. He shrugs and runs a hand through his curls.

"Barry said Ross would take my place as Not-So-Grump today," he explains, avoiding Arin's eyes.

"So what, that pissed you off or something?"

"Yeah man, I mean, that title belongs to me now, right?" His voice pathetically cracks on the last word and he tries to cover it with a cough. He sounds like a petulant little child right now, he knows it but he's felt so restricted all day. Tired of suppressing the selfish voice in his head, the one that pounds on his temples when all he wants is silence. "I don't want anyone to take my place, Arin."

"What the fuck is going on in your head right now, Dan?" Arin sinks his hand into Danny's mass of tangles and gives a small tug, as if hoping that would be enough to tear away his scalp, give Arin a clear view at his brain. But the slight pain is nice, fuck, Danny's always had a thing for hair pulling. He wants Arin to pull some more, to wrench his head back and bear his throat so that Danny is helpless and his neck is vulnerable to Arin's teeth.

Fucked. Danny is so fucked, because his desires have a desire to be known. They want to pour out of his mouth, let Arin know just how screwed up Danny is in the head.

"I'm sick," Danny says as Arin takes his hand away, watches as he reaches for his phone and wishing instead he was reaching for Danny's hand. Arin chuckles and shakes his head, reading a text that was probably sent by Suzy. The house is silent, Danny realizes. "Are Scuze and Barry gone?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," Arin says distractedly, hid thumbs typing out a response. "Suzy's sis came by, wanted to show her this restaurant that just opened up or something. And Barry left like an hour ago to do something at your guys' apartment. He'll be back in a couple hours to take you home."

"Oh," Danny mumbles. Alone with Arin. It's as terrifying as it is thrilling. Bad ideas scurry out of the crevices in his brain, scratch as his frontal lobe, demanding his attention. He swallows the words on the back of his tongue along with a spoonful of Suzy's soup. It doesn't really taste like anything and he doesn't have much of an appetite anyway. He sits the bowl back down on the table.

"Anyway, man," Arin starts, shoving his phone back into his pocket and turning to face Danny completely, "no one's ever gonna take your place as Not-So-Grump, okay? I mean, you can do this for as long as you want, until you're ready to move on from this." 

"And if Jon shows up at your door tomorrow, tells you he wants to come back, what would you say?" Danny isn't sure where the question comes from; it hadn't ever been a concern to him before. He just wants to hear Arin say—

"He lives across the country, dude, ain't gonna happen?" Arin laughs, looking a little lost.

"Okay, but if he didnt. If he moved next door and told you he wanted to be Not-So-Grump again." Arin shakes his head, looking up at the cieling, incredulous. Danny waits for him to speak.

"Jeez, I don't know, Dan, tell him 'too bad'? I mean this isn't gonna happen, but if he did wanna come back on the show as like, a guest Grump or something that's fine," he explains, focusing his eyes on Danny once more. He shrugs his shoulders. "But Dan, you're right, that title is yours now. The only one who's gonna change that is you."  
Danny nods, but his ears aren't satisfied. Insatiable. He's fucked and insatiable.

"But wouldn't you rather he come back? Wouldn't you rather do this with Jon?"

Arin looks at him, really looks at him. He blinks and squints his eyes, trying to understand what Danny is getting at. Danny resists the urge to hide his face.

"No, I wouldn't. Dan, why the fuck are you asking me this?"

Danny groans and puts his head in his hands, regretting ever opening his mouth, regretting ever getting out of bed today. Because he's weak and exhausted, and he can't keep it bottled up anymore. He can't. It comes rushing out, pouring over his tongue, the words like sand.

"Because I don't wanna do this with anyone else. I want it to just be you and me, forever. Arin—" He takes his hands away and looks at him, looks at the open, confused expression on Arin's face, knows that he doesn't quite get it. "I'm so messed up. I want you so bad."

A stutter. Shock. Comprehension. Anger. Danny isn't breathing as he watches the emotions play out over Arin's face. He watches as Arin stands, silent, turning his back and running a hand through his hair. Danny wants to touch that hair, bury his face in it and sleep. Danny breathes out, swallows, and he swears that his throat doesn't feel as sore as it just had been, as if the words he had continuously refused to speak were, in fact, honey. Medicinal.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Dan?" Arin finally speaks and his voice is shaking with anger and a twinge of fear. He won't look at Danny, so Danny doesn't say anything. A pause. A breath. Inhale, hold, exhale. "If this is like a joke, man-"

"I'm not joking." Danny immediately stomps that notion down, because Arin still isn't taking him seriously, still refusing to believe him. Danny doesn't lie about shit like this, not when he's bearing his soul. "I'm serious, Arin. I didn't mean for it to happen." The tacked-on sentence hardly needs to be said— no one can fucking choose who they're attracted to, who they want to be with.

"How long?" Arin asks, quietly, his anger subdued at least for the moment. Danny takes a moment to think, to organize his words carefully.

"I think," he begins, wishing that Arin would just look at him, "that the... feelings had been there for a while. It's just that it hadn't really hit me until recently." Danny isn't sure what he expects Arin to say. He has no idea what the future holds now. Will Arin refuse to work with him anymore? Will he never speak to him again?

"Fuck, Dan," Arin breathes out, his voice quivering. "Why do you have to make my life so goddamn complicated?" Pleading. He turns, looks Danny straight-on, and his eyes are pleading. "I have a wife, Dan. I love her."

And he hasn't called Danny a faggot, or said that he's a piece of shit, or said that he doesn't feel the same fucking way that Danny does. Something like hope lessens the knots in his stomach, but it's so wrong and unwanted that it swishes in his stomach like bile. It is an oxymoron; Danny wants Arin to want him, but he doesn't want to hurt Suzy and fuck up her marriage. Because that is the only dead end for this long, winding road of lies and regrets. Ashes, ashes. We all fall down.

But Danny looks at Arin, who has driven him sick with yearning, and he thinks, fuck better judgment.

"Please, Arin," he chokes out, because his chest is too tight with guilt and frustration. He won't ask again, he decides, and this can end with as little collateral damage as possible. But Arin inhales, squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them again and he looks at Danny with the same emotions that make Danny's ribcage ache, and he moves closer. 

Closer, closer, taking Danny's face in his hands and pushing him back and finally fucking kissing him and kissing him until they are both shaking and lost in each other's pleasure. Arin makes a tiny little noise in the back of his throat and pushes against him a little harder. Danny just holds him, keeps Arin right on top of him as the time ticks by, rutting and grinding until the seconds become minutes become hours. Danny's head feels light. He is so goddamn happy.

And later, distantly, as he is sucking a mark onto Arin's neck, he hears the front door open. Suzy's voice rings out with a cheerful greeting as she steps inside the doorway.

 

The soup on the coffee table has gone cold.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I may write a second chapter to this one day. Comments and Kudos are appreciated.


End file.
